I’ve been neglecting this site for quite some time. There are a bunch of reasons for this, but none of them are good excuses. I’ve been a busy man, and real life has been keeping me blessedly busy with school, conferences, holiday travel, holiday shopping and collaboration with some local folks. When my life rearranged itself a few years ago, I decided to only write when there were important things to say. When Bram showed up, I told myself I wouldn’t let this place turn into every other weblog of a new parent.
All of which is a betrayal of the main reason I started this thing, way back in January of 2002. To write things down that I thought or thought were important on a daily basis. As a way to find my voice. Time to get back on track. I’m going to write at least a small post on a daily basis, just like back in the day.
Here I am, back again and fancier than ever. I’ve finally inched toward a higher echelon of blogging authenticity by hopping on the MT bandwagon. Now that I have redesigned and have nifty auto-archiving et al. there is really only one thing about this site that bothers me. You might be able to help…
I cannot get my parent DIV table in which all else is nested to auto expand when the nested DIVs within it do so. My only recourse was to make the parent DIV inordinately long. If you have an idea for what I should do to make the parent grow in proportion to its children please, by all means, help this poor sod out.
All the links should work, but I still must put forth what little powers of design that are at my disposal in order to make those pages jive with the new ones. please bear with me, and if you see anything that needs fixed, holler.
My life’s been generally boring recently. More or less nothing noteworthy going on worth mentioning, but pfft. I don’t care. Whatever. I’ve basically been doing nothing worth mentioning, but it’s not important.
Current Mood: jejune
entry generated by the Apathetic Online Journal Entry Generator.
bleah. i’m tired and my eyes are crusty/crunchy since i chose sleep over shower this morning. but on to today’s rant and my first shot at metablogging.
what i get tired of seeing as i search through the morass of the wideworldofweblogging are the sites in which the entries become nothing more than linguistic acrobatics. how cool can i make my mundane life and ideas sound? alas, i have been guilty of this myself. my beef centers on the fine distinction between writing to be ‘clever’ and writing to be precise. writing to be ‘clever’ is easy. you just need a thesaurus and enough imagination to believe the weather forecast. then, utilising Roget’s textual interface a person can substitute words for words creating a rendered universe of kaliedoscopic intransience whose plethora of subliminal gadgetry hides the fact that there is no actual content to the damn thing. this ‘cleverness’ is in fact nothing but intentional ambiguity. writing to be precise, on the other hand, does not let the reading infer anything from the post. they are told what the point of the article is and it is explained sufficiently.
now some might say that i am distinguishing between two different schools or writing which could be represented but not necessarily defined by artistic writing and academic writing. however, what some might mistake as my rant against the artistic is by no means my intention. what i am railing against is writing that has form but no content. neo-Dada writing if you will. the point is that it has no point. fuck that. i believe that those who think they are being clever are actually convinced that their creations have content and meaning.
what is nice to run across are the instances of precision that pierce to the center of the author’s intent and enlighten instead of muddle. when words are chosen not for their cleverness but for their aptness. where adjectives are used with the discerning taste of a connosieur to emphasize, instead of the haphazard arsenal employed by so many that merely overloads. good poetry is precision writing at its best, and it is artistic.
i’d like to acknowledge that the opposite is true, writing can be excessively banal to the point of mild insanity but i’ll talk about that some other time.
Nota Bene: this entry is also an attempt at reflexivity despite the fact that i dislike the postmodern, i am still a child of it. that is probably appropriate for the postmodern itself. coils within coils.